“You’re where? With whom?” Channing asked through the phone.
Phelan frowned, turning his back on the woman lying asleep in the center of the queen-size bed.
“Just run the tag I gave you, Channing. Text me with the name and address ASAP,” was his testy response.
“If she’s been bitten you need to get her back here right away. She’s too dangerous right now to be left alone,” Channing warned.
The beta’s words were unnecessary, as Phelan had already taken that into consideration. He knew everything Channing did about new bloods, which was part of the reason he’d pulled his bike off the road behind her and followed her into this B and B.
Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Phelan let out a breath and said, “I know what I need to do. You just get the information I asked for and text me back right away!”
“I’m on it,” Channing said before disconnecting.
Phelan was pushing his phone back into his pocket thinking that Blaez and the others would know about this in another 2.4 seconds, because Channing wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. Not that this was something that should be kept from the others in any case.
With that thought in mind, Phelan turned to her again, wondering who she was and what had happened to put her in this place, in this condition, at this time. She was fast asleep, thanks to him, resting quietly for what he guessed was the first time since she’d been bitten. He was glad at least, that he had been able to give her that.
As unbelievable as it might seem considering their current circumstances, there was an advantage to being a lycan who could not only walk in the human world but could also cross over to the Olympic realm.
That was Phelan’s gift as it were. Some lycans had extraordinary powers—for instance, Kira, Blaez’s mate, was a Selected. In addition to being specially chosen by Selene, the Moon Goddess, to marry a powerful alpha such as Blaez, Kira also had the power of sight. Using her sight, Kira could see snatches of things about to come, as well as things from the past. Phelan had learned of his gift early on in his life, when he’d inadvertently crossed the realms after a particularly angry episode with one of his teachers.
Since that time it had been a place of solace for Phelan, leaving the world where he was forced to conceal his true nature and living in hiding because one angry god wanted to kill the closest friend Phelan had ever had. In the past weeks, Phelan had gone to the Olympic realm more than he had in previous years because he wanted to find answers. There was a bounty out on Blaez’s head. Just a couple of months ago, a harpy had found them as they’d hunted the Solo on a cliff near the Blackfoot Mountains. Fortunately, Blaez was quick enough to shift into his full wolf form before the harpy saw him. Only the pack mates knew of Blaez’s half-lycan, half-demigod gift—and he was the only one of his kind. Phelan had recognized the harpy and knew that she also had connections to Eureka, which reinforced for him again that the fury who had come to be the bane of his existence was quite possibly a threat to his alpha and their pack. That was also the other reason Phelan continued to travel to Entice to see Eureka. What was that old saying? “Keep your enemies close”?
Enter another woman. A new blood-lycan female. The second Marena looked at him with knowledge and fear in her eyes, Phelan had offered her a glass of water. She’d accepted his offering not knowing that he’d used some of the sleep-opium he’d received from Hypnos, the god of sleep. Phelan carried the small packet of powder with him as humans might carry their drug of choice. It was a crutch that Phelan wasn’t proud to have, but one that had saved him from lashing out and hurting others when the pain and disgust of his own past threatened to choke him. The glittering silver powder gave him rest in his personal world of turmoil; without it, he had no idea where he would be.
Now he watched her sleeping soundlessly, lying on her back, one arm draped over a pillow arching near her head. Her skin looked so soft, a color very similar to that of heavily creamed coffee. Her hair was like black silk, fanned out straight behind her. And her body … Phelan wasn’t going to even go there. He kept his gaze trained on her from the neck up, ignoring anything else he may have felt when he’d first walked into this room.
It had been like being led by a leash, he’d thought as he’d parked his bike behind the B and B and come inside. He had no idea who this woman was or what type of situation he may have been walking into, but he could not stop moving toward her, had not been able to talk himself out of approaching and offering his help. That was the first thing that was out of character for him. Phelan was not the sociable type. He wasn’t a Good Samaritan by any stretch of the imagination. He was a lycan with an attitude, a loner who just so happened to belong to a pack, a trained killer who had no problem doing what he was taught to do without recriminations.
Despite his lycan genetics, Phelan was not a man easily aroused by a woman, and especially not a human, no matter what time of the month it was for him. He had strict control over his sexual hungers; that’s why he was able to sit at Club Entice night after night, not touching a single soul there but only watching, taking what he needed with his own hand. That happened by Phelan’s choice only. He was always in complete control.
That’s why his hand was reaching out now, cupping Marena’s large breast, watching as the mass spilled through his fingers. He groaned then, his breaths quick and shallow. She was arousing him. This woman who did not look anything like the women at the club or those Phelan had ever shown interest in was making his dick jump and harden by a simple touch. He squeezed her breast again. She did not move, but her lips did part slightly. Phelan stared at her face for endless seconds, her breast in his hand, as he watched and waited. He wanted to see her tongue, to watch it slip through her teeth to rub slowly over her lips. When it did he would suck it, which was a decision quickly made. He would suck her so hard into his mouth that she would have no choice but to moan. That sound would echo in his ears, spurring him on until he finally thrust his hard dick into her waiting pussy.
But her tongue never appeared.
With disappointment spearing through him, Phelan touched her other breast, looking down at his large hands. She was soft, overflowing his palms in pliant delight. He wondered if she awakened right at this moment what she would do. Would she readily accept his touch, moan with pleasure, spread her thick thighs, and welcome him inside? His body reacted one way, while his mind drifted in another. Phelan gritted his teeth in consternation.
Pulling his hands away from her begrudgingly, Phelan tried to get his mind right and focus on the matters at hand—the fact that this human had been bitten, by a lycan, to be exact. The look in Marena’s eyes just before Phelan had put her to sleep said she knew and she feared. Now what the hell was he supposed to do about that? And why was it his responsibility to deal with it in the first place?
He wasn’t the one who had first let the world know there were shifters on earth. That was the Shadow Shifters. And he wasn’t the one creating more lycans. That was Channing and Malec, and a good number of Hunter lycans with the notion of ruling the world, or on some other stupid power trip like that. But he was the one who had found her; he had listened to her through that partially opened door, attempting to rid her body of the animal toxins that were at this very moment infiltrating every cell in her body. How could he leave her here to figure this out on her own? The answer was, he couldn’t.
Just as he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
Reaching out once more, Phelan touched her inner thighs, feeling even through the denim material how soft and pliable her skin would be here. The feeling, along with the thought, had him shaking. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as the soft musk and floral scent that was uniquely hers wafted up and into his senses. It was intoxicating and had his mouth watering, so much so he couldn’t resist running his fingers over the crotch of her jeans. Any other man would not have picked up this aroma, would not have known it meant how sweet she was beneath those jeans and her underwear. But Phelan was no other man. He was a lycan. A lycan who was horny as hell and wanted to fuck this new blood he’d just met more than he wanted to take his next breath.
He was just about to inhale that blissful aroma once more when the pain striking his right jaw sent him sprawling back on the bed with surprise.
* * *
Not this time!
Marena’s mind had screamed the moment she felt his hands between her legs. Davis wasn’t going to force her to have sex with him, not if she had anything to say about it!
He’d been right there, in her room again, walking toward her with that smirk on his face, blood seeping through the white dress shirt he’d worn. The blood wasn’t the only thing different this time, Davis’s eyes were glowing a fierce shade of blue and his teeth were elongated, sharp, and deadly looking. He’d continued to come closer to her, no matter how many times Marena had warned him to stay away.
She had the gun in her hand again, just like the first time, and she lifted her arm, aiming at him once more, only this time there had been no bullets. He’d laughed as he reached for her, long, dark nails scraping against her arms. Even as she screamed he’d slid his hands over, cupping her breasts so tightly she felt those nails breaking into her skin. When those same hands moved to rub between her legs, it was enough! All the flailing and slapping at him she’d been doing up to this point hadn’t done a damned thing. Resorting to last measures, Marena had balled her fist and smashed it into his face. He’d been so intent on feeling her up he hadn’t even seen it coming. And when he’d howled in pain, falling back from her, she’d pounced.
Straddling him, she punched and swung repeatedly. “Bastard!” she screamed. “Fucking arrogant, disgusting bastard!”
He’d caught her by the wrists at some point, moving so fast and switching places so easily she hadn’t time to spew any other insults.
“Stop it!” he was yelling at her. “Wake up, dammit!”
Marena screamed again, kicking and bucking her body up off the bed in an attempt to break his hold on her.
“Get off of me!”
“Wake up!” he yelled, his face extremely close to hers.
She didn’t stop screaming, couldn’t find the OFF switch in her mind. He was strong and there was no way she could break free, but that didn’t mean she had to let him take her. She wouldn’t give in; she never had in her life and she wasn’t about to start now.
Until his face contorted, his forehead enlarging, hair growing quickly down the sides of his face, teeth elongating as he opened his mouth and roared at her. Her mouth snapped shut so fast she almost bit her tongue, heart thumped so wild and loud Marena thought for sure it was close to ripping right through her chest.
Suddenly she realized something was off here. Something other than the animal-like face staring angrily down at her.
She wasn’t wearing a dress that displayed her ample cleavage and thick, shapely calves. And he wasn’t bleeding; at least she didn’t think he was through the black long-sleeved shirt he wore like a second skin. This wasn’t Davis and she wasn’t being attacked. Or was she?
“Get off of me,” she said slowly, sternly.
And he did, moving with deliberate motions.
She watched him move, his body as lithe as if he weighed no more than a hundred pounds even though she could tell from the size of his biceps and his chest that he was quite possibly double that weight. His waist narrowed, his shirt tucked into those leather pants neatly. At his sides his hands were large, with long, sharp nails, just as she’d thought Davis’s had been in her dream.
But that had been just a dream; she was certain of that now as she sat up on the bed. Davis hadn’t stood in front of her bleeding, continuing to attack her. The last time she’d seen him he’d been lying on the floor in the hotel room, bloodstains blossoming on his shirt from the gunshot wounds. She felt more in control this way and looked at the new guy directly.
Now she slid off the edge of the bed until she could stand.
“Who are you?” she asked. Not “What are you?” as she’d really been thinking.
He shook his head then, hard, as if he were—for lack of a better word—some type of animal, and in seconds the vicious face had settled into the very handsome one of the guy with the intense green eyes and black hair who had come into her room unannounced.
“My name is Phelan and I’m a lycan,” he said as calmly as if he were stating his name and Social Security number for a job interview.
“A lycan?” she echoed.
“Yes,” he replied. “A man cursed by a Greek god to have wolf traits.”
Now Marena wanted to shake her head the way he had moments before, to make sure she’d heard him correctly. The reports were true; there were other beings walking the earth. She’d watched the news reports, seen a glimpse of what looked like normal big cats but were reported to actually look like humans. She frowned then because she’d never heard mention of any lycans.
“What are you doing here? Why haven’t you gone by now? I’m not going to have sex with you,” she told him, feeling a bit of déjà vu from the night she’d told Davis the same thing.
His nostrils flared, his eyes going cold, hard, flinty. Marena swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “Answer my questions,” she prodded.
“I picked up your scent back a few miles on the highway. I knew what you were and I followed you. I haven’t left because I can’t. So I suggest you grab your things and come with me.”
He spoke sternly, as if he expected no argument to his pronouncements. Unfortunately, he had no idea whom he was dealing with.
Shaking her head, Marena took a slow step toward him. Because to her in equal parts dismay and intrigue, she felt an inexplicable need to get closer. “Why on earth would I come with you when I don’t even know you? And you don’t know me.”
There was another pause and then he frowned, thrusting a hand into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He looked down and began reading directly from the device.
“You’re Marena Kay Panos. Born in Summer’s Cay, Florida, now leasing a condo at Millennium Tower in San Francisco. Attended Penn State for undergrad, graduated tops in her class from Columbia Law. Holds an associate’s position at The Arrington Law Group in the complex litigation department. Owns a polar-white Mercedes GLE SUV and possesses an excellent credit rating, which is commendable considering she’s only twenty-eight years old and has already managed to pay down more than half her student loan debt.” The frown deepened after those last words and when he looked up she noted his thick eyebrows almost touching as he continued to frown.
“You should come with me now,” he added, as if she hadn’t heard him say that before.
“Who— Someone sent you all that information about me. Why? Who sent it?” she asked, very uncomfortable with him knowing so much about her when she knew so little about him.
To be fair, Marena figured, she now knew the most important part about this Phelan person. He was a shape-shifter, or a lycan as he’d called it. She wasn’t certain how she felt about that as she waited for him to respond to her questions.
Instead of answering, he—Phelan—moved to close the space between them quickly and touched her shoulders.
“We do not have time for all these questions. Whoever bit you may be looking for you. We have to move now,” he said rather forcefully, even though he didn’t make any move to drag her out of the room.
Marena was very aware of the fact that he could have probably succeeded at doing just that. She was glad he hadn’t tried and still very much alarmed at all that he’d said.
She opened her mouth to say no, to deny it, but her shoulder throbbed, as if in stark reminder. Marena didn’t know Phelan enough to trust him. She had no idea if he was in cahoots with Davis or had some other nefarious intention toward her. What she did know, however, was that whoever he was, she felt better around him than she did without him. That ought to count for something.
“Davis,” she murmured.
“Who is Davis?” Phelan asked, the name spoken in more of a growl than any form of the English language Marena had ever heard.
“Davis Sumpter, a partner at the firm. He … he…” Marena cleared her throat and looked Phelan directly in the eye. This would be the first time she verbalized this admission, the first time someone heard her side of what had happened that night. It amazed her that it would be this total stranger.
“He attacked me and I shot him, and then I must have fainted. And when I woke up the police were there, but Davis wasn’t. He was gone,” she stated quietly, recalling the conversation she’d had with Tammi just before she’d left her condo. “They think I did something to him. They’re going to arrest me for kidnapping or whatever charge they can come up with. I’ve already left a message for my lawyer.”
Now Phelan did move her toward the door, his face growing darker as he spoke roughly. “Your lawyer won’t call you back,” he said tightly. “Davis Sumpter is a Hunter lycan. I’ve got to get you back to the lodge and then we’ll figure the rest out.”
“What is a Hunter lycan?” she asked, once again ignoring his order to come with him.
Phelan sighed. “I don’t have time to go into all that now. Just know that—”
Marena shook her head and pulled away from him. “Just know that I’m extremely stubborn and full of questions. So if you want to get on with whatever it is you need to do, I suggest you answer me quickly.”
There was no mistaking his irritation, but Marena didn’t care. At least she didn’t while he was in his human form. Besides, she needed to know more about these lycans, especially if Davis was one.
“There are two groups of lycans,” Phelan began. “The Hunters and the Devoteds. The Hunters crave total dominance, but to gain that they have to be rid of the Devoteds, whose only goal is to coexist with the humans. Same old power struggle, different species,” he ended flippantly. “Can we go now?”
“I’m not going with you,” she replied. “I don’t know what the hell is going on. Davis is not— I mean, he’s … I thought he was just an obnoxious guy. But now you’re telling me he’s some type of hunter wolf, who bit me so that now I’m going to change into a wolf.” Even to her own ears the words sounded unbelievable.
Davis was in a man’s body, but last night he’d definitely had an animalistic look about him, a primitive air that gave him permission to do whatever he’d planned to do to her. And she thought about that pain in her shoulder again, the sickness she’d been experiencing since last night, and how, unexplainably, the moment Phelan had come in here and gotten close to her that sickness had ceased.
“What happens if I don’t go with you?” she asked him.
He ran a hand through his hair, causing the short wisps at the top to stick straight up. “I only know that it won’t be good. A Hunter wants to own its creation. He’ll want to find you and keep you.”
“Nobody ‘keeps’ me,” she immediately replied.
Phelan’s brows arched, his lips thinning. “He bit you, Marena. In just three weeks, on the night of the next full moon, you will become one of us. In the barest sense of our kind, you will be his lycan.”
“The hell I will!” she snapped.